


All's Fair in Love

by dontbefancy



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 03:30:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2094054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbefancy/pseuds/dontbefancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Rachel head to the Ohio State Fair for a day of fun, food and maybe a little adventure. But when Rachel chickens out on Kurt's one bucket list item of the day--flying in a helicopter--he finds a willing stranger to go up in the air with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All's Fair in Love

**Author's Note:**

> Fluffity, fluff, fluff fluff. I've wanted to ride the fair's helicopter since I was a child. The answer was always, "no." Now that I'm an adult, I'm married to a man with an insane fear of heights. As we stood by the attraction this year, I found myself seriously looking around for someone to join me as they'll only allow parties of two or three to ride. And then--fic idea.

"Rachel, you _promised_!"

"I—I know, but." Rachel looks at the empty helipad and back over Kurt's shoulder to the midway, eyes lit up with another idea. "I'll ride the Himalayan again. You liked that."

"I am not riding that—no." Kurt pulls out his phone and pokes at icons as he talks. "The carnie gives me—he only has one tooth, and my hair can not take another rock music-laced spin at light speed." 

"But you'll run under furiously twirling propellers?" She spins her hands in the air, eyes bulging in melodramatic fear, finally calming enough to read the sign on the ticket booth. "Guess you're out of luck—they only allow you to go up in groups of two or three."

"Dammit, Rachel. We've been saving for _weeks_." He shoves his phone in her face for the third time in this short conversation, tapping the screen with each word. "It's. On. My. Bucket. List."

"I truly do not care about your bucket—"

"Come on, Sam. It's only a 10 minute flight. I said I'd pay your way."

Kurt's attentions leave his traitor of a friend for the sound of another frustrated fair patron. And upon further inspection, an adorably attractive frustrated fair patron. He looks like he just walked off the Brooks Brothers website and into the deep fried, grease stained Ohio State Fair.

"You said that, yes. But I never said I'd fly 30,000 feet in the air with you. You made this agreement up in your head."

"Helicopters do not fly 30,000 feet in the air. It's more like—"

"At like 200 miles per hour."

"Where are you even _getting_ these numbers?" 

Before he can think twice about it, Kurt pushes past Rachel, who has been babbling incessantly about the butter cow and the giant slide—as if he'd actually put his butt on that foul burlap—and the darling banjo player at the gazebo stage. "Ex-excuse me." 

The adorable boy stops scowling at his friend long enough to look at him. 

"Hi. I couldn't help but overhear and my friend is... " He tosses a look back to Rachel standing by the helicopter ticket booth with her mouth hanging open. "Would you mind going up with a stranger?"

The boy smiles and offers his hand. "Blaine Anderson."

Kurt takes his hand and their eyes meet and he has to remind himself to breathe while concerning himself with the idea that the stuttered gasp that just rattled through his ribcage was not in any way audible. "Kurt. Kurt Hummel." _Shake his hand, you imbecile._

"Hi, Kurt. Now we're not strangers."

Kurt hears the smack-crack-slap of Rachel's flip flops and closes his eyes in anticipation of the upcoming onslaught. He whispers a pre-emptive apology to the hazel-eyed wonder—to Blaine—who still hasn't let go of his hand. 

"Kurt Hummel, you seriously are not going to get on a flying projectile with a complete stranger! He could be carrying or... or... or a sex offender, or—"

"Hey, now wait just a minute. You can't talk about my friend that way." Blaine's friend steps up and actually puffs out his chest. The size of his mouth is in perfect proportion to his bravado—entirely too large. 

Kurt can't hide the snicker that bubbles up inside of him and Blaine finally lets go of Kurt's hand with a blush and fixes a scowl on his face. 

"Sam. Sit down." Blaine points at a nearby railroad tie. "Just stop." Apologetically he glances up at Kurt and then motions toward the ticket booth. "You really want to ride? With me?"

"Yes." Kurt is almost breathless. He had already started settling with the idea that this helicopter flight was not going to take place and then— _goodness Blaine is attractive_. He stops staring long enough to flash his phone and show Blaine the list he'd been waving at Rachel. "See? I have a bucket list and," he notices Blaine isn't even looking at his phone, but up at him with a dopey grin on his face and his eyes dancing in the sun. "You probably don't really care about this."

"Actually, I do. My bucket list is on paper. In my desk. Color-coded and—" He blushes and Kurt decides this trip to Columbus for the Ohio State Fair is his best idea all summer long. "The point is, I understand."

The whirring engine of the returning helicopter cuts through their conversation and Kurt can't help but bounce on the balls of his toes just a little bit. "Are you sure? Really, really sure? Because," he stops and shoots a glare at Rachel who seems to have conceded her loss, sitting on the railroad tie with Sam looking fidgety and forlorn.

Blaine follows Kurt's gaze and laughs. "Yeah. I don't think I've been so sure about something in quite some time."

They buy their tickets and wait for the previous riders to disembark before running out to the landing pad, squealing when the wind of the propellers catches them by surprise. Like a flash they're inside the cabin, breathless and buckling in. 

"You, have a, um... " Blaine lifts a hand and retreats, blushing and chuckling. "Your hair." He motions with his hand to his own head and grins. "It's sort of—"

"Oh! Oh god," Kurt quickly pats at the mess on his head and rolls his eyes at himself. "I must look ridiculous."

"I think you look beaut—"

"You boys ready?"

"Yes!" Kurt grabs for Blaine's hand and squeezes tight. "Let's go!" He gasps and Blaine clenches his hand even tighter when they lift off the ground. 

Kurt points to his left and Blaine leans over to spot Rachel and Sam waving up at them, and if Kurt's honest, they look downright relieved. "I think we just added ten years to their lives."

Blaine leans in closer and points up at the noisy propellers. "What?"

Kurt smells raspberries and speaks louder right in Blaine's ear. "We just added ten years to their lives!"

"Cowards." Blaine sits back and wiggles into his seat, still hanging onto Kurt's hand. 

Kurt makes to let go once they seem to have reached full altitude, but Blaine squeezes again and smiles as they look out and around, the clear landmarks of Ohio State University campus coming into their line of vision. 

They can see the stadium, the Oval, and as the copter continues north and east they can see the fairgrounds again to Blaine's right. "I think I see Rachel and Sam!"

"Real—" Kurt stops himself and pushes at Blaine, laughing. "You do not."

The ride continues on its clockwise loop of the city and before long, downtown Columbus is clear. "We should have waited and done this at night."

Kurt doesn't answer, happy as he could be to be up in the air, just enough wobble in the flight to remind him that it's a little risky, his adrenaline thrumming through him like a rushing river. The short ride is over too soon and they begin their decent, Sam and Rachel waving frantically. They meet Kurt and Blaine on the pad, cameras up to their face to take pictures of the fearless duo.

And then it's over. 

And Kurt is still breathless, and Blaine is still beaming. 

"Yeah. So. Dudes. Like, are we gonna... " 

Kurt heard Sam's sorry attempts at moving the party forward, but he wasn't entirely sure what to do about them. Because now that they were back on terra firma, there was the issue whether Blaine was riding with him just to be nice, or if all of that hand holding and big-eyed blushing was a sign that this might indeed become the best night of Kurt's life.

"We, we should—have you guys eaten? Or how long are you going to—" Blaine stops and looks at Sam and from what Kurt can tell, asks some sort of secret code of permission. He finally turns square to Kurt and tries again. "We were going to get some food. Meat-on-a-stick of some kind. Wanna come?"

"I love meat-on-a-stick." Kurt looks at Rachel and pleads because she doesn't eat meat and there are probably vegies-on-a-stick or cheese-on-a-stick or _something-on-a-god-damned-stick_ and if she puts a damper on this moment, so help him god he is going to throw a Justin-Bieber-sized temper tantrum. 

And that would be ill-advised if he wants to eat meat-on-a-stick with this boy.

Rachel delays and strokes her hand down the length of her hair, gathering it and swinging into a ponytail from an elastic on her wrist. "Just so I don't have to eat meat because—"

Kurt grabs her wrist and leads the pack toward the long row of food vendors before she can begin to come up with another stipulation to her decision. "Excellent. I'm starving."

~~~**~~~

It takes three vendors and what feels like three hundred dollars to get various foods on various sticks, but with a little bit of team work, the new group finds a curb, a few stacks of napkins, swapping and trading enough food to carry them for at least another hour. 

"Elephant ears!"

Rachel, Blaine and Kurt all groan, hold their stomachs and walk towards the Bricker Building. The one building Kurt can not wait to get to because as a child the only word he ever heard while he was in it was, "No." 

_"No, you may not buy the Ginsu knife for your grandmother. She would actually try to use it on a tin can and kill herself."_

_"No, we are not buying a vibrating recliner. Your mother does a fine job of loosening my muscles after bending over cars all day."_

Even at age seven, Kurt knew that there was something uncomfortable about that statement. Besides, he wanted the vibrating chair for himself after ballet class. The old mechanic's back idea was just a manipulation. Obviously.

And worse, when he was ten, _"No, we are not sitting down with a psychic to ask if your Mom wants me to buy you those $300 boots. I don't care if you smelled cowhide, I guarantee you they were not real leather."_

_"But he said he'd throw in the gun holster for free, Dad. You can keep that!"_

_"Kurt. No."_

So, while 'no' had been the admonition of his childhood, he now has his own hard-earned money that he is indeed saving for college spending, but has ear-marked a good chunk for this specific day in this specific building.

And after only half an hour, what eighteen-year-old Kurt learns in the one-hundred-fifty thousand square foot building filled with merchants and hawkers, pitchmen and hucksters, is that the word 'no' is the only word that should _ever_ be uttered.

"Oh guys, look! Vibrating pillows!" 

Kurt follows Sam over because a vibrating pillow might be a decent consolation purchase from the long-lost recliner. After Kurt gives Rachel an evil eye when she squeezes her oblivious ass into the only chair next to him, blocking Blaine from sitting there, they all settle back and enjoy. Except the chairs are hard conference room variety and the pillows are... slippery. And lumpy.

And vibrating so hard on Kurt's lower back that he worries his teeth will chatter when he tries to talk. He gives a trepidatious look at Blaine who thankfully is up and off before he has to say a word. 

They're off again chasing Rachel out of the "cute socks" booth featuring, as one would expect, socks with every imaginable—and unimaginable—image all over them. Professions, animals, sports teams, hobbies on footies, hiking socks, anklets, tube socks, but when Kurt notices her slowing at the baby animal knee-highs, he begins a quick intervention. "We talked about this. Animals on your sweaters _or_ animals on your knee-highs. You gave up the socks. Let's go."

They have a scare when suddenly Sam isn't with them and they find him standing devotedly at a booth with a micro-phoned man hawking some sort of silver cleaner. The salesman pulls a half-shiny, half-tarnished silver spoon out of a cup of chemicals and the audience of seven gapes in utter shock. "My mom would love this! I'm going to get her some."

Sam is in his back pocket before Blaine can stop him. "Sam. Does your family even _have_ silver utensils?"

"It's _silver_ ware, dude. You don't use golden spoons to eat your cereal in the morning, do you?"

Kurt thinks Blaine is so amazing and adorable and interesting and enjoyable that maybe he _does_ eat his cereal with a gold spoon. If he doesn't, he should.

Sam pays and carries his bag of silver cleaner for the rest of the evening and lists all the other things it will clean to anyone who will listen. 

Kurt secretly hopes it will clean out his memory of the final stop in the Bricker Building.

"Wax Vac. It's a vacuum cleaner for your _ears_!!" Sam darts over to the booth and like a parade of mindless sheep, they all follow him. "We have to get one for my Dad. Blaine, you've seen the shit he pulls out of his—"

Blaine yanks Sam away. Away from the pitchman, away from Kurt and Rachel. And Kurt can't hear much of what he's saying even though Blaine is doing more physical imploring than speaking. He does hear words like "stop," and "impress him," and "embarrassing me." And Sam has the decency to blush and suggest heading to the midway now that dinner has settled.

As they walk back outside, Kurt tugs on Blaine's arm to pull them back behind Rachel and Sam. "You—you don't have to impress me, Blaine."

"I—you heard that?"

"Bits of it." He smiles as Blaine blushes then tosses a glare to the back of Sam's head. "Hey, I mean it. I'm having a great time."

"Good. Me too. But, I think I'm going to stick a little closer to you because he's—"

"He reminds me of my brother. He fits in just fine." When Blaine's eyebrows crook and looks as if he's about to apologize, Kurt interjects, "But I'd really like you to stay a little closer anyway."

"Can I hold your hand again?"

"You don't have to ask."

~~~**~~~

They ride _everything_. The flying swings, the Scrambler, the Octopus, the Round Up. They ride the Zipper once Blaine promises to let Kurt control the extra spinning of their cage. 

Except Kurt gets it spinning end over end over end at the top of the tall, skinny ferris wheel-like contraption cackling maniacally knowing that Blaine errantly assumed, "Let me take the controls," meant Kurt was going to keep the spinning to a minimum. 

"I think," Blaine wobbles and grabs onto Kurt for balance. "I think maybe we should do something calm like the carousel? Or the picnic bench? They don't even _move._ "

They opt for the carousel and since Sam can't be seen riding such a "kiddie ride," he and Rachel stand to the side and take blurry pictures. Kurt and Blaine find horses next to each other, lean their heads on their respective poles and talk. It's the first time since the helicopter ride that they're alone. This time, they can even hear each other.

"Are you guys staying until closing?"

Blaine's eyes flash with red and green, purple and yellow reflections as they go around and the lights of the midway begin to take place of the sun's light. Kurt wants to hop off the carousel and ask Rachel to pinch him because these sorts of dreamy, perfect, romantic things just never ever happen to him. But Blaine is still looking at him waiting for an answer and he doesn't want to leave this scene at all. "Almost. I have to be home at midnight."

"It closes at 10..."

"We live in Lima. 9:30 at the latest."

Blaine straightens up and his eyebrows lift in worry. "Oh." He looks out to the watching crowd and half-heartedly waves at Sam as they spin by. "Oh. I guess—god, I'm so stupid. I just—I forget people come from all over for this."

"Yeah. Where do you live?"

"About fifteen minutes north. Westerville. For two more weeks anyway."

Kurt nods, trying not to get wrapped up in the desperate ache that's grasping at his heart. _Please. This is just getting started._ "College?"

"Yeah. NYADA. It's a theater school in—"

Kurt gasps, sits up and almost falls off of his horse, Blaine catching him as he loses his balance. "New York City. Rachel and I leave in ten days!"

"NYADA?"

"NYADA."

They stare and laugh and stare and giggle and ask, "Really?" again and again. Kurt doesn't look away, afraid to break the spell, even when he hears Rachel calling him to smile for a picture. He doesn't want to pull himself away from the up and down and round and round of the evening he now finds himself in. 

And then Blaine reaches across the space between them, hooking their fingers together. "I bet your voice is beautiful."

Kurt preens, but blushes. "It's—it's different." 

"I bet it's beautiful."

So wrapped up in each other, they don't realize the ride has been slowing. When it stops spinning altogether, they startle at the world creeping in on their world. Children run around the wooden floor of the merry-go-round to their parents and the entire base wobbles every time an adult hops off. 

When Kurt finds Rachel he's sure his mouth is still hanging open. She cocks her head in curiosity and when he tells her they all celebrate. Sam's going too—blindly with no plan—and it is decided they are going to conquer the world together.

~~~**~~~

There is so much left to do, so much left to see, so they make a dash of it, hitting the buildings that close early first, admiring the entries for cake decorating and quilts, needle work and, "Brillo pad art? Sam, this is one you haven't tried... "

When Kurt shoots a look at him, because arts and crafts is not something he imagined Sam doing, Sam says, as if an explanation, "Macaroni art, dude. I'm a master. You should see the portrait I did of Bl—"

"Sam. I swear to god if you do not shut up!"

They stare and stare at the multitudes of steel wool scouring pad crafts—most of them clothing—and before long, Blaine wiggles and Kurt grimaces and they leave the building. "I swear that made my _thighs_ itch. Why would you... "

"CLYDESDALES!"

They follow Rachel to the Clydesdale horses. They grab and share bags of kettle corn on the way to the dairy building to see the infamous butter cow, a life-sized sculpture of steel mesh and pounds upon pounds of butter. There, they devour ice cream cones loaded with three scoops each of every flavor available. They stroll through the cow and horse complex, petting as many horses as they can get near. 

And the giant slide? They ride it twice. When the desire to have Blaine snuggled up between his legs as they sail down the huge contraption wins over his disinterest in getting "disgusting burlap threads" all over his pants, he has to climb up the steps again to keep Rachel from pouting his earlier refusal. 

It's not as if she didn't squealed in delight while riding with Sam. 

Standing at the opposite end of the fairgrounds to the parking lot, Kurt looks up to the skyride that could carry them quickly to the right entrance. "Can we? My chariot's about to turn into a pumpkin."

And with a squeal and an awkward wiggle into a chair lift, they are alone again, Rachel and Sam behind them. Blaine rests his arm on the back of their seat, eyebrows lifted in invitation. And Kurt slides in closer sighing with such deep contentment, he thinks he might actually cry. "I don't want tonight to end."

"I don't either. But we have all of New York City to look forward to."

"Do you—do you want to meet up there?"

"Kurt. Of course I do. I—"

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

"Oh my god." Kurt buries his face in his hands and plots how he's going to torture Rachel on the way home. He's stuck in a car with her for close to three hours. Surely, he can pay her back somehow.

"Hey." Blaine's fingers tentatively tug at Kurt's wrists. "Look at me." Kurt looks up instead, and the sky ride comes to a stop, leaving them all dangling over the fairgrounds. "It kind of sounds like a good idea."

"It really does." And so they do. And it's awkward and the lift chair is wobbly and they have to grasp at the bar holding them in and Blaine's lips are softer than clouds and he still smells like raspberries even after an entire day at the fair and even better, he tastes like funnel cake. The ride jolts to a start again and they laugh and finally take a breath and realize that Sam and Rachel have been cheering for them like the lunatics they are.

"Go get it boys!"

That was not from Sam or Rachel. 

Kurt looks down to where the shout came from and laughs. The redneckiest of rednecks is lifting his beer up to them. "Love is love! Have a great night!"

It is the greatest night.

~~~**~~~

Rachel and Sam don't shut up for one second on the way to their cars. The only thing Blaine has said is, "Where are you parked?" and "us, too," when Kurt answers, "Yellow G." They walk to their cars hand in hand, stopping at Kurt's car first. Kurt begs Rachel to drive because he has decided that two weeks is at least one eternity away, if not two, and even then they will be so wrapped up in the New York City of it all, he's sincerely afraid Blaine will forget about him.

Forget about his phone number now in Blaine's phone with a picture of them with the hints of candy apple on the corners of their mouths. 

Forget that Blaine helped Kurt cross off _two_ bucket list items in one night—ride a helicopter and milk a cow. Okay, so milking a cow didn't show up on his list until after he did it and found it to be the most peculiarly fun thing he'd done in a long time. But still. 

With only the potential of Blaine forgetting, Kurt decides to get an early start and pout all the way home, therefore, Rachel needs to drive.

But not before one more kiss and one more assurance to Blaine that he will text him when they get home. 

Rachel winds the car through the parking lot and follows the exit signs out. To go north. And then west. And then two hours away from the most perfect boy to have ever lived. 

"Kurt! Look!"

Kurt looks where Rachel's pointing out the window and he sighs again, a stupid tear dripping down his cheek. "We could have crossed off three things—kissing under the fireworks."

"Oh, honey... do you know how _lucky_ you are? He's perfect and I'm so sorry I suggested he was a sex offender because clearly he is an absolute gentleman and—"

Kurt's phone vibrates and he barely takes his eyes off of the fireworks spraying in the sky as they circle around the fairgrounds, the opposite direction Blaine and Sam are. 

But when he does look, his breath catches for what might be the one-hundredth time that night. It's a photograph of an especially large firework with the text, "I liked that purple and gold one. It would have looked so pretty reflected in your eyes."

_To Blaine: I wish we hadn't had to leave. You're missing them too._

_To Kurt: It's okay. They wouldn't be as nice without you._

_To Blaine: Thank you. For everything tonight._

_To Kurt: I was thinking...would your dad let you drive back down here Saturday for a little more fair time? And maybe ride the helicopter at night during the fireworks?_

Kurt dials Blaine's number before he can care about his father's response. He'll convince him somehow. "Do you mean it? This Saturday? In three days Saturday?"

Blaine laughs and Kurt sinks down into his seat with a sigh and Rachel coos. "Yes. This Saturday. I don't want to wait to see you again."

"I'll only come if you promise to kiss me. In the helicopter. During the fireworks."

"I promise. It's on my bucket list."


End file.
